All 28.1 - Amnesia
With a final growl of agitation ending his tirade, Cohen turned away from the flustered and frightened Pierce and took the few steps across the room, avoiding where the summoning ritual still sat glowing faintly. He approached Victor, who had pulled himself defensively into the corner, his eyes darting back and forth in confusion and paranoia. Kneeling down, the doctor brought his face level with the other man’s. He rubbed his temples, “Ugh, I am utterly unqualified for this...Do you remember language, at least?” Victor’s demeanor was not unlike a scared animal, equal parts flight and fight. “...Yes…” he offered slowly. “Oh thank gods,” Cohen sighed. “That would have been an entirely greater problem. Do you remember...hmm...how to tie a shoelace?” The look on the amnesiatic man’s face began to drift to a more offended, yet grounded, confusion. “Yes?” “But you don’t recognize me?” “No.” “Do you know where you are?” “No.” “Do you recognize the name Mirilarin?” “...Yes.” “What is it?” “A...a continent?” “Name a country there.” He bit his lip, considering, “...Ye...to?” “Good. Do you remember anything about that country?” “Umm…” his face was concerned as he thought, “...It’s...wet? It rains frequently. And people have blonde hair, and brown, almond eyes. I...know what the armour, and clothes, and weapons they use look like...and...they worship...Taiyo?” “Good, excellent. Alright. Does the word ‘All’ mean anything to you?” This question confused Victor somewhat. “It...means everything. The word all, that is, means everything of something.” With his deadpan seriousness, the doctor replied, “It is also the name of an invading extraplanar race of hive-minded creatures bent on turning Materia into a frozen, lifeless husk. Is any of that familiar?” Victor looked shocked, “No!” Cohen let out a breath, and summarized, “Ok. I’m sorry. I’m Malcolm Cohen, I’m a doctor. This is…” he gestured over his shoulder, but when he looked, no one was there. “Ugh. That was Percival Webber, but I suppose he’d rather not face the music. You’ve been hit with a spell that induces amnesia. Does that make sense to you?” Victor’s eyes darted around, and he looked both concerned and panicked again. Cohen continued, “Just...stay calm. You have no personal memories, no...idea of who or where you are, and have no concept of being places or knowing people, correct? But you still have knowledge, you still know things, it will just be a matter of figuring out what you still know and what you will need to be filled in on.” “It’s a spell. You said it’s a spell. Can’t it be broken?” Victor asked, something of a desperate edge to his voice. Cohen snorted, “Not without causing worse problems, no.” “How can that be? That makes no sense. Break the spell!” Victor half commanded, half pleaded. “Calm down!” Cohen retorted with some force, taking the other man aback. “This is confusing and painful, but it will be all the worse if you don’t remain rational and I know you can do that, so do it now. Take a deep breath and focus, and I will explain everything I can, and we will discuss what to do. There is no immediate danger, we have time, so we will not be rash.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “...I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m not good with people at the best of times, and I’m trying to help, so if you could just…” Cohen looked up, and saw that Victor had knelt upright and closed his eyes, taking meditative breaths. “...Great. Good. Yes. Do that.” After a moment, Victor exhaled and opened his eyes again, looking at the doctor more stably. With a short sigh, Cohen said, “Ok. Let’s go somewhere else. The decor in here is bothersome,” he added with a disdainful look over his shoulder. The doctor stood up and held out his hand, helping Victor upright. He led the confused man out of the room and down some stairs, into a sitting room. They were in an apartment building, just across the street from the hotel where everyone was staying. Gesturing for Victor to sit on a couch, Cohen sat across from him in a chair, exhaling heavily and rubbing his forehead again. “Ok. Alright. I am going to try and explain things as best as I can, and you will have more questions than can possibly be answered, but we’re going to try and work this out.” “Alright,” Victor conceded. His posture was straight, and his expression was carefully blank. “This...will all sound entirely false, but I swear I am telling the truth, and there are others here who will corroborate my story.” “Alright,” Victor confirmed again, unperturbed. Cohen looked at him for a moment with a hint of a raised eyebrow before starting. “Your name is Victor Erzebet. That is not your real name. You are a half-elf man, early forties, from Arlington, a city in Asanon, Mirilarin. That is not your real form. In truth? You are a devil. You are an ascended devil, blessed with power by the god of sin, and are currently bound into that form and name by another devil’s magic. I do not know what your real name or power or form or any of that are. Neither do you. Neither do any of us. You have tattoos, in Infernal, all over your body. Look at your arm.” Victor did what Cohen said, and considered the sharp, black characters that were on the skin under his bracer and sleeve. “That is the spell. It is the summoning contract that binds you. It will keep you in a mortal form, with all of your memories and powers locked, until you die. Then you will remanifest in Hell, with your body and mind intact.” He sighed, “Do you have questions about any of that?” Victor closed his eyes and considered the information carefully. Eventually he asked, “Who summoned me? For what purpose? And who are ‘all of us’?” “I do not have the best knowledge of that, I only ever knew a shorthand version. From what I know, there was a woman, B...b...Betty? Beth? I don’t know, some noble woman named Erzebet, and her husband died. She went dotty, and made a deal with a cult to raise him from the dead. That’s not possible though, so what she got was a devil bound and prettied up to look like him. You. The purpose? To act like her husband, I suppose? All I know is that she was absolutely mad, died, and you wanted nothing to do with her property or position, so went off on your own, equipped with basically nothing. And that time you had just as few memories as you have now, except no one except a madwoman to tell you anything, so you spent a very long time guessing at what and who you were until you came to a satisfactory conclusion. I say this because you, just now, had the spell recast on you by that same devil. It bound you again, sealing your hard-earned memories along with your original ones, leaving you once again a blank slate. I...will explain the circumstances of that later, it will make precious little sense at all without more background. But demonic intervention aside, you had been living as a man in Arlington for years, had a life, and now we’re here. Onto this ‘we’ business. This is going to be more complicated, are you keeping up?” “Yes,” Victor inclined his head slightly. “Good. Now, you were living in Arlington, I suppose, about 6 months ago. This was years after you were summoned, apparently; I don’t know, I wasn’t there. At least 7, I met you once seven years ago, and again 6 months ago, so, that’s the minimum. Anyways, 6 months ago, the world came under attack by a race of creatures that seem to call themselves the All. We know little about them, other than that they are not from any known plane: not from Materia, Etheria, Heaven or Hell. They’re from some sort of neutral plane that has yet to be discovered. They seem to have a collective intelligence, and they have the ability to freeze both creatures and objects into a state of perfectly fixed lifelessness that dispels when the All that cast it are dead. They have probably frozen all of Mirilarin at this point, and they are spreading elsewhere.” Victor interrupted, “Elsewhere? Where are we?” “We are in a ruined city on a continent known as Akroum, across the sea from Mirilarin. The country is...oh, what was it, it starts with a T...Tinoco?” “I don’t think I knew there were other continents…” he observed thoughtfully. “At least, none that were accessible…” Cohen shrugged, “Yes, we have a magically-enhanced ship that allowed us to evade the kraken that surround the continent. But back to the topic at hand. The All are trying to invade and freeze the entirety of the plane, for whatever reasons. They are destroying everything.” “And we aim to defeat them,” Victor declared. “You have not yet explained ‘we’.” “I’m getting there. On the day the All arrived, they attacked the cities first. A particular fey, a powerful creature who makes deals and feeds on paranoia, and who fancies himself ruler of the Etherial counterpart to Arlington and more, acted to secure champions who would reclaim his territory from the invaders. He teleported the single strongest individuals from the city to Etheria; we were two of them. He guided the group he picked to the boat I mentioned and turned them in the direction of a shrine, where they could plead to the gods of Materia to empower them with ascension, a state where one has powers far beyond even the most skilled of regular beings. Even the gods feared the All, and permitted everyone who came to have this power, whether they were properly worthy of it or not. Ever since, we have been fighting the All and chasing rumours of power. Places where ascendants affected the world in some meaningful way in the past, there are left echoes of the event; enter the echo, relive the event, and obtain an item of great power, which we have then been using to fight the All back with. Recently, the All have marked us as threats, and have started to target us specifically. We have also learned of a possible way to seal the doors they’re using to get here. That is where we stand.” “Where are these other people?” Cohen waved his hand, “Around. Not far. We’re waiting for someone to get back with information and a spell, so we are holding.” He made a conceding expression, “The ruin we are in is full of zombies, but that is a more complicated and less relevant story.” “Alright, if you say so. Are we in danger?” “What, from the zombies? Pft,” Cohen scoffed, “See that sword you have?” “Yes?” “You are a highly competent swordsman. I’d guess that even if you had lost all of your memories, were drunk, and had lost a limb, you’d still be able to deal with any of them that might wander in. The All are a different problem, but for now, let’s stick to ‘if I tell you to run, then run’ defense. Trust me, I won’t be sticking around either. I have skills, but I am strictly combat support, and the last time I fought one, we barely survived with three of us. And we are all very. Very. Powerful. In differing regards,” he added the final part lightly, in contrast to the seriousness of the statement before. “So, ‘we’. Alright. I will list us off, one by one, and give you a brief description. I...won’t go into great detail. The last thing I need is for someone to come back whining that I told lies about them or something,” he said with rolled eyes. “Any other questions about what I’ve said before I start?” Victor thought carefully, “...No. I mean, obviously, this whole thing seems ludicrous, based on what knowledge I seem to still have in my possession, but either I take your explanation at face value, or I have a fit and start flailing about in a panic, because I certainly have no context to do anything else.” Cohen raised his eyebrow. “...It’s easier for you to calmly accept that you are a bound demonic summon, who has been left to your own devices and has chosen to save the planet from unknowable invaders, than it is to panic,” he said in his deadpan manner. “Yes. If I panic, then I’m apparently going to run into the zombies outside,” he said calmly. Cohen blinked flatly. Victor shrugged, “Worst case, I am being set up for what I can only assume is the most involved practical joke of all time.” “...That’s your worst case.” Shrugging again, Victor explained, “You’re either telling the truth, or you’re lying. If you’re lying, it is to take advantage of me, or to act at my expense. I have no way to determine which, right now. If I assume you are lying and you’re not, I will waste your grievously-needed help. If I assume you are honest and you are not, either I will act as your pawn or act as your fool, neither of which I can prevent in my current state, and neither of which I am to blame for. It is a greater personal loss to not trust you. I do not think you threaten my life, at the moment, so I will be content and listen to your information, as outlandish as it seems, and will consider it as I gain greater insight.” Cohen looked moderately impressed, “You have a frightening amount of self-control. And trust, honestly.” “I will mark those as traits I possess then, and be glad I have already learned about myself. Continue.” Cohen sat back, some of Victor’s placidity rubbing off on him. “Alright. You. You are Victor Erzebet. You are a devil, and have the...forceful personality to match. You were chosen because of that, because the fey knew you wouldn’t let the All survive as long as you did, and as I said, because you are a very accomplished swordsman. “I am Malcolm Cohen, as I said. I am a medical doctor, a biochemist and an alchemist of the highest order. I have a broad knowledge of many topics, a mastery of potions and certain alchemical magics, and am not without my defenses in battle. I was chosen, because I have a stubbornness not unlike yours, though mine is directed towards the improvement of mortal kind. I will not let extraplanar invaders destroy my plane, and I will not die before I have succeeded in making the people of Materia stronger in some way. “There are...five others, like us, who have committed everything to this: Lucca, Ryuji, Clover, Percival, and Cress. I will go over each of them in turn. There are two fey who keep appearing regularly, interested in our success: Harlequin, the fey who collected us in Arlington before we too fell prey to the All, and Gemini, a twinned pair of creatures who travel this continent. There are a few others of note: Cheko, a mimigan woman who was with us until a few days ago. She needed a break to recoup from events that had became too stressful for her, and is staying in a town far from here. Xander, a necromancer who commands this city, who killed this entire city to conquer its land, and who apparently believes that we are his friends and is going to give us the means to seal the All from our world. We wait for him to return from the Underdark to supply us with this means. Bastion, a woman who ascended alongside us, then immediately left to profit from her power rather than help, and Caitlyn, Ryuji’s wife, another ascendant who is staying with Bastion, but who’s reasons for leaving were much more...socio-political.” Victor blinked, raising an eyebrow. Cohen looked flatly and said, “We hate each other, the reasons for which I’m sure will become clear as we move along. Hmm. There is Annashil, or Carrot, a kobold who is extremely gifted with machines. She...was left to her own devices in the boat for a few months and has apparently made a warren in it with some locals. There is Itzli, a gnoll scribe who follows Percival around believing him to be a king. And, probably most important to you: your son, Virgil.” Victor looked, for the first time since Cohen had started talking, slightly surprised. “...A son?” “Yes. You have a child, young boy, only seven, that was with you when you were collected by Harlequin, and so has been brought along on our life-threatening adventures.” “Why wouldn’t he be somewhere safe? From what you described, this can’t be a good place for children.” “Hardly,” Cohen grinned, “But I believe you were always of the mindset that, as long as there was danger in the world, you were the most qualified individual to protect him from it.” Victor considered this as Cohen added, “I’m sure there is also a consideration of attachment. You spoil and dote and favour the child so much, I know that part of the reason he follows us to the front lines is that you couldn’t bear to not have him with you.” “Then I am truly foolish,” Victor said matter-of-factly. Waving his hand dismissively, Cohen said, “Oh, we all are, don’t begrudge your faults. Recognize them, of course, but you’re going to have them, so you might as well own up to it.” Victor took a moment to process this information, closing his eyes and meditating silently. Cohen waited until eventually Victor opened his eyes again, “Alright. If I have a son, than he has a mother. Who is she, and where is she?" "He doesn't," Cohen replied. "And before you ask, no, she's not dead, she didn't leave you, apparently she never existed. I don't know the story first-hand, once again, but according to what you told me earlier, he is the product of fey magic. A fey rewarded you for helping it by creating a son for you, without your permission. So he has no one, other than you. I'm sure that also lends to your over-protection. Ask Lucca." Blinking at this, Victor eventually rolled his eyes, and took another minute to process. "Describe the other five,” he stated. “Alright. Hmn. I’m going to be...brief,” Cohen explained. “I don’t want to bias you in your opinions of them, and all of us have our secrets that we dislike everyone knowing. They can introduce themselves, tell you what they are comfortable with you knowing, and you can make of them what you will. Ryuji Komatsu is a Yetoman. A paladin, a tax lawyer, married, has a child. About 30, I think, but he looks young. Gets very defensive about his beliefs and is prone to moping, but is poignantly loyal and always means well. A bit preoccupied with doing right. “Clover is a changeling, of a sort that gives her natural mastery of magical elements; it’s blindingly noticeable, she changes rainbow colours. She is not from Mirilarin, like the rest of us, well, excepting Itzli and the fey, but rather joined us later. She is from Arroyito, the country on this continent where the original Yetomen hailed from, before they landed in Mirilarin. But again, she doesn’t look like an Arroyitan, or a Yetoman, because changeling. Maybe don’t bring that up. She is a soldier-of-fortune, very dedicated to the concept of teamwork, and is terrifyingly effective with a sword. “Cress Rivale is an elf, young twenties, ridiculous hair that he goes out of his way to make more ridiculous every few days. He was not originally chosen by the fey; he was accidentally brought along because he happened to be touching another person when they were teleported. He is sickeningly optimistic, and loud, and simple, but he is probably the purest person among the lot of us. The gods ascended him despite his lack of proven worth, believing him to have potential; the fact that, after he applied himself to training with Clover, he basically punched a world-destroying All into oblivion with his hands suggests that they knew what they were talking about. He comes from a family of organized crime, from what I’ve heard, but you would never know it to talk to him. Or after knowing him for months. Or after knowing him his whole life, according to others. “Percival Webber, or Pierce, as he prefers, is from Kalleandar. He is rich, and suave, and a coward and an idiot. He is an inordinately powerful summoner, however, and his eidolon, Sienna, is a half-human, half-stoat woman with poor manners and a violent edge. He doesn’t have bad intentions, he does want the world saved, but he is...ugh, short-sighted? He’s one of those people who isn’t as smart as he believes himself to be, and it is made obvious from time-to-time. He’s a writer and reporter, a business owner, and, as of a few months ago, the destined god-king of a country of gnolls. He deals with stress poorly and has been generally erratic for the duration of this quest. He is an absolutely magnificent public speaker, though, and he has an intuitive mastery of arcana. “Finally, and I’m going to leave this, as with your son, intentionally vague. Lucca Wakyia is a druid. He’s in his twenties. He is...neh, he is driven and fair-minded, but has emotional outbursts. I don’t want to skew your opinion of him one way or another, as the pair of you have history, and are in the sort of relationship where you are obviously together, but aren’t announcing it to anyone. He will be able to describe himself and your son far better than I could. I will say that you assuredly love him, and he you, and he is going to be wrathfully devastated by this development.” He rubbed his eyes and added quietly, “And I get to be the one to explain it to him, because gods know how far Webber has run.” “What did happen?” Victor asked, still calm. Sighing, Cohen continued, “In order to seal the breaches that the All are using, we need relics made from a certain extraplanar stone. We have been stretching our resources to acquire these stones, but we will need at least five or six, we think, to seal the breaches we know of, and we only had two. We knew of the devil who sealed you originally; his minions are very active in Materia, it seems, and we have run into them on occasion. Webber convinced himself that, because of this devil’s interest in Materia, he might be willing to aid us. But devils’ assistance is not cheap, and it will always benefit the devil more. He summoned him of his own accord, though most of us warned him not to. He made a deal with it, that is certain, and part of the deal was obviously to reseal you, but I do not know the terms or conditions.” “You were there though,” Victor said. “You and him were both there. Why, if he did this himself, were you present?” “Because he invited me,” Cohen said, looking away. “Because he told me to show up and I did, and he asked me to watch while he summoned it so that he had...support, I suppose, and I told him it was a stupid idea, but I did not stop him. If someone wants to play with fire, who am I to tell them no? I would watch him play, and if he burned his house down, that was his problem. But he summoned the creature and it was a cruel, smug thing, and Webber tried to play like he was smarter than he was, tried to get it to play fairly, but what sort of stupid twit assumes a devil will deal fair? I told him again, but it whispered something and Webber told me to leave and to get you, because I was being annoying and it wanted to speak with you. We knew of your bondage, made by him. It was breaking, actually. We had been subject to a fey curse, for a while, and it interfered with your seal, and you were becoming visibly demonic, remembering your actual self. It alerted him, the interference, and he sent his little toadies to investigate, which is what gave Webber the idea to call him in the first place. Anyways, I went to get you, and much like Webber did to me, I played my hand close until you were already there, knowing that it was easier to get you to follow if you didn’t know there was a devil waiting at the end. By the time we entered, I suppose they had finished with whatever agreement they made, and it appeared to be gone. You told him what an idiot he was and wanted to know what he had agreed to, but we didn’t know the devil was still there. And it completed its spell and it summoned you again, replacing the bindings and making you fully mortal again. It also wrapped up all the memories you had gained since you last had the spell put on you, and it sealed your ascendant power again. When we ascended, when we pleaded to the gods of law, they couldn’t ascend you because you already were an ascendant of sin, with your power locked away by the spell. They warped it though, warped the spell to let your ascendency out without harming the rest of the binding. They were afraid of unleashing a devil, we guessed, but were more than happy to arm you as a mortal to do their work. So here we are then. With you weakened and amnesiatic. With a devil running about Materia with a work permit, free to do what it wants until it completes whatever task it conned out of Pierce, as if Materia didn’t have enough extraplanar problems already. Another moon pearl, in the hands of the idiot who couldn’t just burn down his own house, he had to take down the neighbourhood with it, and now he fears the community is going to lynch him for their losses. Who knows where he went, or if he’s coming back? He’d better, or he’s an even bigger idiot than I thought.” Cohen sighed as he finished, looking distant and deflated. He sat for a moment, as Victor digested this information, before stating, “If you have any other questions about that, I can answer them, but if not, I have to go tell the others. Lucca will be more qualified to tell you about yourself than I am.” Victor opened his eyes and looked at the doctor calmly before asking, “Are we friends?” Cohen raised an eyebrow, snorted sarcastically and replied, “If you want to call it that. We’re coworkers. We’re cohabitants. I came to this group with a reputation as a murderer and torturer, and I had personally hurt you, Lucca, Ryuji and Caitlyn in the past. You four were responsible for re-arresting me, after I escaped from jail. The woman in particular wanted me dead, more than dead, but it was eventually declared that I was slightly more useful in a living state. So I got this,” he pulled at the collar on his neck, “which warps my mind and keeps me good, and I am kept around for my assistance in the task of defeating the All. Some people will describe it differently, but since the only being in the world who can take it off is Caitlyn, and we are all reasonably certain she will die before that happens, it is moot.” Sighing once more, he added, “I know that that made far more questions than answers, but it is a frustrating topic. I can discuss it and my failings later if you want, but I need to go break the news to people, and the collar is making me feel terribly guilty about my role in this.” “...Alright,” Victor conceded. "I suppose, before we finish, I would like to know...my relationships, with people here. Nothing specific, I understand your hesitation to give firm details, but I would like an idea." "Oy. Well, the group itself is more a function of convenience than friendship. Everytime we seem to make headway in the 'teamwork' department, one of us sets us back, and I will admit to being at fault in that regard, but none of us have fallen to infighting or outright negativity yet. Yet." He stressed the word a second time for emphasis. "You personally? Your son is obviously the most important, but Lucca is a close second. Whatever your precise relationship is with him, it is assuredly some form of love, and you are very protective of him. The two of them are of critical importance to you. The rest? Friendly acquaintences, I suppose. You worked for Webber in the past and would get drinks from time to time. The three of us have spent a reasonable amount of time playing cards together in the recent past. Komatsu is also an acquaintence of yours from before this ordeal started; you weren't exactly friends, but you are on reasonable terms. There's...a respect between you, because both of you know neither of you will let the world be lost. Cress is Lucca's good friend, so he is to you as a friend of a friend. Clover is a recent acquaintence, and I think Cheko functions as your nanny occasionally." Cohen stood up, “Alright, let’s go. We’re all staying in the hotel across the street. I’ll show you your room, then go tell everyone. Lucca will be along to explain more, I suppose.” Victor stood up obediently, and followed as Cohen led him across and into the hotel, mercifully avoiding everyone else. When he was in his room, Cohen added, “I forgot to mention, but your son isn’t here right now. He’s staying with Cheko while we waited here, but he’ll be back in a few days, I assume. Need anything before I go tell everyone about our communally awful day?” “Hmm. No. I will wait here for someone to get me,” Victor said. He bowed slightly. “Thank you for your assistance, Malcolm.” Cohen blinked at the use of his first name. “Oh. You’re welcome. Not a problem. Especially considering.” He sighed, “I apologize for my role in it.” “I do not believe you were the one at fault,” Victor said simply. “I would think the blame lies with Percival, or the devil.” “Yeah. One or the other,” Cohen said dryly. “We’re not far, if you need anything,” he added before turning and leaving the room. Victor looked around blankly before sitting in the middle of the room and taking up a meditative position. Category:Advent of the All